That I would be your Girl - A Marvel Story

Chapter 6 - I want to hold your hand

There I found those vivid blue eyes examining me, just as I was him. His gaze snagging on my mouth before they flashed up to my own eyes, I did not miss how they darkened for a moment before he steeled himself. I felt my heart skip a beat. "You can't go out there alone." He said finally coming to himself.

"I'm not," I arched a brow, "You are right here." I pulled my arm from his grasp and made for the door.

"I said wait Evelyn."

"No, you didn't," I shook my head, "You grabbed my arm like a barbarian, and forbid me from going out by myself."

There was that tick in his jaw again, "Can we not fight?"

"I'm not fighting Rogers, believe me if I was you would know." I put my hand on the door and pushed it open. I was met with the cool spring air, even after so many years of being away from this place, I knew I could smell the oncoming summer in the air, by later this afternoon I would be regretting bringing my jacket.

"Are you always such a- a," the paused to think of the word, "brat?"

The hairs rose at the back of my neck as I grinned like a devil, "It might end up being one of your favourite qualities. Just give it some time. I'm sure I will grow on you."

He offered me yet another bland look, and I couldn't help but chuckle. Yet as quickly as the light smile spread across my face it was wiped away because I had to remind myself that this man was not mine. No matter how much he looked like him and sounded like him or even how much the banter was familiar, he was not him.

And it hurt.

It hurt a lot.

The annoyed look on his face faltered too when he saw my expression sober. "Evelyn?" He started.

"Please don't apologize to me, ok?" I said unwilling to glance in his direction. "Just take me somewhere that you like. I just want-" my voice cracked, and I cleared my throat, "I just don't want to think about the shitty time I'm having right now. Even if the bogey man is after me and I don't know how to stop it and the man who looks so much like the love of my life hates me, I just want to pretend for the rest of the afternoon at least that my life isn't on shambles."

Steve didn't reply, he just started walking down the sidewalk without a word. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment to try and centre myself.

"Are you coming or not?" He asked.

*~*~*

I took a deep breath. The air smelled of fried meat and deep-fried foods, I hadn't smelled anything so good in longer than I could remember. I slid into the empty booth Rogers had motioned to, the red vinyl of the booth made it easy for me to do so. The wooden table was worn and well loved; initials carved into the edges by some horny teenagers no doubt. I let my fingers trace along the shabby varnish, and I closed my eyes.

"It smells like Coney Island in here," I said breathlessly a true smile spreading across my face, "It has been so long Steve..."

I opened my eyes to find him sitting across from me with a tight smile of his own. "It does."

I sighed, "I can see why you like this place already."

The waitress came to our table passing us a pair of laminated menus with red fabric edges. Her face was friendly, she must have been in her fifties, her brown hair streaked with grey her brown eyes soft and welcoming. Her uniform was tidy, the red and white checkers of her apron were tied neatly around her waist. It matched the checkered paper liners that filled the red plastic baskets that held mountains of deep-fried goods, french fries, onion rings, corn dogs and so much more. The music in the background felt loud suddenly, none of it was familiar, it was just static in my ears. A little boy in the corner was laughing loudly at something his grandmother had said. I could hear the crackling of the oil in the deep fryer and the hiss of burgers cooking on the grill. Then there was sound of the bell as the cook called for an order up.